


Memories

by SkyFireForever



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character(s) of Color, Disabled Character, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Genderfluid Character, LGBTQ Themes, Multi, Muslim Character, Mystery, Polyamory, Reincarnation, Suspense, Trans Character, hard of hearing character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: Memories are very mysterious things. They are the only evidence we have of the past and yet they are so unreliable. Things can be misremembered and memories can be tampered with, but at its core, memories are all we have. They are what define us.Friendship is another strange thing, a bond made from shared interests or similar personality traits, tied together by united memories. Can people be destined to be friends...or enemies? Are forgotten memories just as important as those remembered?Paris Soares and his group aren’t like other friends. They’ve known each other for a long time, but Paris is the only one with the memories of it. Life after life, time after time, only one friend can have memories of the past, but why is that? Why is their friendship decided by the memories of one and the emotions of the others? Paris simply wants to feel connected with his friends and share his memories with them, but in attempting to do so, he may realize that he’s forgotten far more than he realizes.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original work of mine that I doubt many people will read, but what do I have to lose? Give feedback if that's your thing!

Paris wasn’t like other boys, not even close. This was not referring to the fact that he was ginger and covered head to toe in freckles, though that is a rarity. This was not referring to the fact that he loved school and was fascinated by learning, always trying gather as much information as possible, though very few people seem to care about education. This was not, alas, referring to the clumsy way he walked or how pink his face turned whenever anyone so much as addressed him or even how disastrous his fashion sense was, though these were all true observations that could be made about him. No, Paris Soares was not like other boys because he had memories that weren’t his. That being said, it was misleading to state that he was not like other boys, as he was quite unusual for a woman as well, or rather, he was not like other people or beings of any kind, for that matter. Gender held no relevance to that particular fact about him, but the truth remained; Paris was not like other boys. 

Paris had memories that did not belong to him, or at least, they did not belong to  _ Paris _ . The memories were very much his, but they were from when his name was Lysander or Anita or Alex or a number of other things. They were his memories, but they were simply not Paris’ memories. They were memories from lifetimes before, lifetimes where he had lived and died and moved on. This was what made him unlike other boys, girls, and other individuals. Most people, to his knowledge, only lived one life, or if they did live multiple, they had no idea of it. Paris did have an idea of it, this time, at least. He had lived many lives where he had been blissfully unaware of the many lives before them and of the lives that would come after. Paris thinks that those lives were the best. 

Paris wasn’t the only person to live multiple lives and remember them, however unusual it was; in fact, he had known them throughout all of his lives. It was strange, how this cycle of death and rebirth seemed to work, and Paris didn’t have it all figured out, but he had come to a few conclusions over the period of generations he had lived and died through. Each lifetime, he would meet the same group of people, they were always the same. Yes, they had different genders, races, ethnicities, names, and histories every time, but they were always the same people. Each time, Paris would befriend them, even when he didn’t remember who they were. That group seemed determined to stick together throughout all history, no matter what. 

Another strange thing that Paris had noticed was that during each lifetime, one person out of their little group would remember the pasts they had shared before. This couldn’t be confirmed, as none of them remembered at the same time, but Paris could remember in every life that one of them always seemed to know more about the others than they should. It was strange and confusing and completely twisted, but it was Paris’ life (well, lives). 

He loved his friends in each life, whether he remembered them or not, and they loved him. He was his duty, as the one who remembered, to find his friends and befriend them once again. This task wasn’t easy, however, as Paris could remember the millions of times he’d done this before. It was always so lonely, being the only one with the knowledge of what he and his friends had been through. There was always a distance between himself and the others. He wondered if the rest of them felt this way when it was their time to remember, but he had no way of knowing. He wanted to share the memories with his friends, but he had no way to. More than that, he wanted to know why this cycle continued or when it began. The one lifetime he couldn’t remember was the first, the time before all other lives, the very beginning. This time, he was determined to find answers.


	2. Remembrance

Paris woke up, lying comfortably in his twin bed, blankets wrapped around him snugly. He wanted to just snuggle back into them, kept in a hug made of warm material forever, but alas, this was not to be. His alarm was blaring in his ear, making it impossible for him to continue his rest. He groaned and fumbled blindly for his phone, attempting to hit the snooze button, with minimal success. His arms were mostly trapped against his body as he thrashed wildly to get them free. His fingers eventually closed against the screaming device and he managed to get his thumb on the screen. He let out a long sigh when the noise finally ended and he could sink back into his perfect pile of comfort, but it wasn’t quite the same. The blankets were all tangled around his legs, his arms were exposed and cold, his brain was less sleepy. His perfect paradise had been completely ruined. Damned alarm. 

He groaned and tried to readjust, make himself comfortable again. Just when he was finally snuggling back to semi-relaxation, the alarm went off again, creating a noise of absolute exasperation from the ginger. He turned off the alarm and said goodbye to the appeal of sleep, knowing that he would miss it dearly in the day to come. He struggled to free himself from the mess of blankets and sheets, as they still clung to him in a desperate attempt to keep him trapped there forever. He eventually succeeded in his quest and escaped from the bed, only to fall on the floor, hard. 

He grunted, but picked himself up, straightening himself into something almost presentable. He yawned as he tried to remember why exactly he was being forced to wake up so disgustingly early. It hit him as he was pulling on a clean enough pair of pants, taking him by surprise, somehow. First day of school. Perfect. First days of school were the best because there was no telling who you could meet on the first day of school. First days of school were always new beginnings with new people, which meant new possibilities. Paris loved first days of school because on those days, he was more likely to find his friends than on any other day. In this life, Paris only knew one of his usual group so far. Her name was Bibiana this time and she behaved just like Paris had always known her to. She was wild, fun-loving, and impulsive, tending to think of herself before others. It didn’t come from a place of malice, but rather her lack of consideration. Paris didn’t hold it against her, he’d never been able to. 

Paris had met Bibiana when he was eleven years old and knew immediately who she was. Who else could possibly be so bombastic, impulsive, and adventurous? Paris had been happy to befriend her, knowing immediately how to do so. She was everything he remembered, but also different. It was as if she was a painting of the person he knew, done by someone who had never really seen her. They got the important things right, but a few of the details were just slightly off. That’s how it was every time, things like race, appearance, and gender could be swapped about without the art being damaged in any way. She was still herself, it was just that this time, she was Bibiana. 

Paris grinned excitedly to himself, struggling to get dressed as quickly as he could. He barely paid attention to what he was throwing on, but he very rarely did that anyway, so not much was lost. He was practically buzzing with optimism, so hopeful for the day ahead. He wondered if he’d meet any of his friends today, he wondered what they’d be like, what would have changed, what their lives were like this time. It was all just brilliant to him, how things can change around them, but they always end up the same. He missed them all very much and he couldn’t wait to see them again. 

He pulled his clothes on and brushed his teeth hurriedly before flying down the stairs, skipping several steps at a time. He was ready to dash out the door, not concerned with anything other than the idea of seeing his friends again.

“Paris.” He was stopped by a familiar voice coming from behind him, making him groan at the distraction. 

“Yeah, Dad?” He turned around to look down at the much shorter figure of his father. 

“Aren't you forgetting something?” The man raised an eyebrow, an amused look on his face that made Paris feel like he had somehow done something rather foolish. 

“Uh, am I?” Paris blinked, trying to think of what he could possibly be forgetting. 

“Yes. Several things, actually.” Mr. Soares chucked and shook his head at his son. “Like your backpack, for example?” He suggested, making Paris’ face go red. Of course, his backpack. What had he been thinking? He must have been in such a hurry to get to school that he had forgotten what school actually was. “Also breakfast?” He reminded him. “And telling me goodbye?”

“Right, right. Of course.” Paris nodded hurriedly and jogged upstairs to grab his bag before hopping down again. “Okay, better. Now I can actually do school things at school.” He laughed a little at himself. It was always good to laugh at himself on occasion. It reminded himself that his flaws were normal and could be amusing. “Um, I’m not particularly hungry.” He said in response to his father inquiring about the most important meal of the day. “Goodbye!” He waved and made to run out the door, but he was stopped before he had the chance to be out. 

“Hey.” Mr. Soares took Paris’ arm and made him turn around to face him. “I love you. Good luck.”

Paris smiled at his father and gave him a huge hug. “I love you too.” He said quietly. “Thank you.” He turned away and left, thinking to himself about his father. He was really a great person, so kind and supportive. He was better than a lot of other parents Paris had had in past lives. In this life, he was lucky enough to not have siblings, he remembered that he’d always hated having siblings. Being an only child just suited him, as did having a very loving single father who cared about him. It was a very nice feeling, having a good family. Paris could remember the bad families, the ones who never wanted children, the ones who wanted to see him suffer. He shuddered at the memories, but refused to let them damper his spirits. Today was a good day, after all. 

Paris was met halfway on his walk to school with a very familiar voice crying out to him. 

“Hey, duck feather!” Bibiana jogged towards him, a wild grin on her face. Paris couldn’t help but smile at the affectionate insult. It was part of his and Bibiana’s relationship in this life, the playful back and forth of meaningless insults. It was charming and sweet, even if it earned them strange looks from people who didn’t know them.

“Hiya, pinata string!” Paris countered with a grin, feeling the corner of his lips almost burn with the stretch that came from smiling so widely. 

“Pinata string, that’s clever.” Bibiana praised, falling into step beside her friend. “First day of school and you almost kept on walking without me.” She put on a dramatic pout that was far too exaggerated to be taken seriously. “What’s the deal with that, you oversized chair?”

Paris snickered at that one. Oversized chair. That was good. “Sorry. I guess I forgot.” He admitted with a light blush. “I was just excited to get to school.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He wasn’t lying, not at all, he  _ was _ excited to be getting to school.

Bibiana rolled her eyes and let out a dramatic sigh that must have carried down the street. She could be quite loud when she was being a drama queen, which was always. “You are such a  _ nerd _ .” She jabbed Paris’ chest, as if this was the insult to best all insults and not just a perfectly accurate description of Paris that was used nearly everyday. 

“Me? A nerd?” Paris put a hand over his heart. “I’d  _ never _ .” He grinned as his friend rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness. “I really don’t know what you expected.”

“Me neither.” Bibiana shook her head with a grin that lit up her entire face as the two of them approached the campus. “Ah, here we are.” She made a sweeping gesture with her arms, as if she was presenting the school to Paris for the very first time, which was, of course, ridiculous. 

 

Paris grinned as he looked up at the buildings, feeling the excitement grow inside of him, expanding like a balloon just before it pops. He took Bibiana’s hand and squeezed it tightly. She didn’t know it yet, but they might just be meeting their best friends that day. He pulled her to the front of the building, buzzing with energy and grinning like it was the best day in the world. 

 

“Oh, who’s your homeroom?” Paris asked his friend, looking over at her. 

 

“I don’t know.” Bibiana responded with a shrug and a bored expression. “Why?”

 

“Well, that’s where we’re going.” Paris raised an eyebrow at her. “I have Mr. Valear.” He informed excitedly, looking down at the schedule he had procured from his pocket. 

 

“Cool. I probably don’t.” Bibiana shot him a thumbs up. “I gotta get to my class, I guess.” She groaned loudly and put a finger gun to her temple and mimicked pulling the trigger. Paris had to hide the instinct to flinch. “I’ll catch you later?”

 

“Of course!” Paris hugged her tightly for a moment before he headed towards the room number printed on the piece of paper in his hand. He took a breath as he stood outside of the door, wondering if anyone he knew would be inside. There was only one way to find out. He opened the door. 


	3. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again, next chapter! I hope you enjoy!

Paris walked into the classroom, looking around at his new classmates, the people he would be sharing a homeroom with for the rest of the year. He grinned as he chose a desk in the front to sit in, even in homeroom, he felt the need to sit close to the front. It helped him concentrate in his other classes, so it had become almost habit to always sit in the front of every room. He looked around at the other students, trying to tell if any of them seemed familiar, but he knew that it was no use. It was impossible to recognize his old friends on appearances alone, as they looked completely different each life, but he still tried anyway. He chewed on his bottom lip as he scanned the room, seeing people he recognized from years past and others that he didn’t. New students, that was really hopeful. 

He was so busy focusing on the new students that he barely noticed as someone he knew took the place beside him. He turned his head to see Aiki Shakya, a girl who he’d gone to elementary and middle school with. They’d known each other for practically their whole lives and yet Paris could only remember having a few conversations with her over the years. He decided that the beginning of a new school year was the perfect time to change that. 

“Hi, Aiki!” Paris waved at the girl and gave her a huge, goofy grin, hoping that he looked friendly enough. 

The girl looked up, seeming rather surprised. “Huh?” She looked behind her to see if there was anyone sitting there, clearly not thinking that Paris was speaking to her. “Oh. Hello.” She waved shyly back, a tiny wiggle of her fingers, before looking down at her desk again. 

Paris frowned slightly to himself, unsure of what his next move should be. He knew that Aiki often behaved shyly and seemed fairly introverted, so he didn’t want to disrupt her peace, but he also knew that she didn’t seem to have many friends. He didn’t want her to feel alone, but he didn’t want to be rude either. Why was being a polite, but friendly person so hard? 

He didn’t have much time to deliberate, however, as a middle-aged man took his place at the front of the room, clearing his throat to capture the students’ attention. When that clearly did nothing and most students continued chattering away, he repeated the sound, clearing his throat loudly. He had to do this about four more times before the class actually fell quiet. 

“Hello! I know you’re all very excited for your first day of junior year.” He smiled at the class, looking so kind and gentle. “I am Mr. Valear, I am an English teacher here and I will most likely be your English teacher.” He explained. “But for now, I’m simply your homeroom teacher. Homeroom is where you’ll be getting your report cards at the end of each quarter as well as where you’ll come every morning to collect your laptops, once those are distributed.” He smiled. “But now, you’ll be getting your schedules for the next semester.” He held up a stack of papers, causing some people to groan or roll their eyes and others, like Paris, to smile excitedly. Mr. Valear looked down at the stack. “When I call your name, please come get your schedule. Melony Sanchez.” He held up a paper as a tall, athletic looking girl stood to grab it. 

Paris looked back over at Aiki, smiling at her kindly. He hoped that he wasn’t being creepy, was it creepy to awkwardly smile at someone? Actually, that seemed very creepy, maybe he should stop doing that. He flushed, thinking about how foolish he was to think that wasn’t creepy. Of course it was creepy. He quickly looked away, staring down at his desk so he wouldn’t be watching Aiki. He looked up again when she was called to get her schedule, watching her look over it. Was that creepy? That probably wasn’t creepy. 

He looked up when his name was called and he hopped out of his seat, taking the sheet of paper that was offered to him and looking over it as he returned to his seat. He grinned brightly to himself as he looked at his classes, excited about starting. He was in mostly advanced classes, much to his satisfaction. He was sure that he looked smug, but he didn’t really care how he appeared to others. He was allowed to feel proud of himself, no matter what other people thought. He looked over at his extracurriculars, frowning when he saw that chorus had been placed on his schedule despite the fact that he had no clue how to sing and in all likelihood sounded like a dying cat, not that there was anything wrong with dying cats, it just wasn’t really Paris’ thing. He supposed that it didn’t matter, maybe he’d even grow to enjoy singing. That would be nice. 

Paris jumped up as soon as the bell rang, looking over at Aiki with a smile. “I’ll see you around!” He told her, hoping that it didn't sound creepy. On second thought, Paris might actually be a rather creepy person. 

Aiki looked up and over at the boy, smiling patiently and nodding. “Yes. See you.” She said rather formally before hurrying away, almost definitely creeped out by Paris’ attempt at friendliness. It seemed that Paris and Aiki weren’t going to become friends anytime soon. 

Paris sighed quietly and walked downstairs, making his way to the smallest building in the school. He stepped inside and was hit by the overwhelming stench of mildew, causing his nose to wrinkle up. He coughed a little as he stepped further in, letting the door close behind him. He rubbed his nose and looked down at his schedule, checking the room numbers before finding the one he was looking for. He opened the door and walked into the art classroom, staring at the paint splattered walls and the stained tables. The whole room gave off an air of creativity and excitement that Paris absolutely adored. 

He smiled brightly and sat at a table in the front, setting his bag down underneath his seat. He watched various other students walk in and take their seats around the room, some looking excited, others bored, and still others completely disgusted. Paris had always enjoyed people-watching, wondering about their lives, their pasts. Every single person he passed on the street had their own lives that didn’t have anything to do with his own and that absolutely fascinated him. He wondered if anyone else had past lives that could have intersected his. It was impossible to tell, really. He found his gaze captured by a couple walking in the door, both of them laughing together before sitting in the very back, one person on the other’s lap. Paris could recognize one of the pair as Nikolus Baccus, a bit of a troubled boy Paris had known since the beginning of high school. Nikolus was loud and lazy, but incredibly brilliant, even if he wasted his intelligence every year by skipping class or simply not bothering. Nikolus was the type of person who was well acquainted with everyone, but friends with none, sitting with a different group at lunch every single day and going home alone. He was friendly, but no one ever seemed to know much about him. Which was probably why Paris found it so odd to see him walking in with a stranger and sitting with them. He usually sat in the back of every class he was in, alone. 

Paris quickly snapped his gaze away before either of the pair could catch him staring. He was beginning to realize that he stared at people a lot. He should really work on that. He looked down at his table as the art teacher walked in, looking grumpy and annoyed by his students already. Mr. Naile had been the art teacher at Paris’ high school for as long as anyone could remember, but he had never enjoyed it. Paris found it interesting that most movies and books portrayed art teachers as the kind, patient teachers who just wanted their students to succeed when Mr. Naile was the absolute opposite of that. He didn’t care about art, he didn’t care about teaching, and he certainly did not care about children. 

Mr. Naile cleared his throat. “Alright, you all, listen up.” He snarled at the students. Paris noticed out of the corner of his eye that Nikolus was waving his hands at the stranger he was with, seemingly conveying something to them. “Welcome to art, the most pointless class that you will never use.” Mr. Naile continued, snapping Paris’ eyes back to him. “Alright, here is where I call roll.” He sighed loudly, conveying that he wanted to be here even less than the students did. “Megan Ash.” He called.

A small girl sitting in the corner of the room raised her hand. “Here!” She said. 

Mr. Naile sighed. “Nikolus Baccus.” He rolled his eyes and scowled. “In my class again.”

Nikolus grinned from his table. “It’s Nik, Mr. Naile, sir!” He spoke as if he was a soldier, saluting the teacher with a look that showed just how determined he was to cause trouble for the man. 

Mr. Naile glared at the boy and shook his head. “Hunter Belle.” He glanced up as the student in question raised their hand. “Jonathan Boothe.”

“It’s Jan, actually.” The stranger with Nik piped up and Paris was a little surprised at how soft their voice was, a little high-pitched and melodic. 

“Excuse me?” Mr. Naile looked at the stranger, well, Paris supposed that they weren’t quite a stranger now that he knew their name. 

Jan smiled sweetly. “My name is Jan.” They replied calmly, tucking a long strand of strawberry blond hair behind their ear. “It’s Jan Boothe. I’m a new student.”

Mr. Naile scoffed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath that Paris couldn’t quite hear before calling out the next name on the list. Paris stopped paying attention, turning his head to look back at Jan and Nik, who were waving their hands at each other. Paris caught a glimpse of something inside of Jan’s ear and it clicked for him, they weren’t just waving their hands about, they were communicating in sign language. It was obvious as soon as Paris actually thought about it for more than a second. He flushed before looking away, deciding that it wasn’t really right to stare at the pair. He needed to stop staring, he reminded himself again. He looked up at the teacher and announced his presence once his name was called. He couldn’t quite stop thinking about Nik and Jan, finding himself to be extremely curious about them for reasons that were as of yet unknown to him. 

“Alright, I’m supposed to give you an introduction into the course and explain what we’re doing, bla bla bla.” Mr. Naile sighed, sitting down behind his desk. “But I’m pretty sure you all know what art is. You need to have a sketchbook, painting supplies, and basic school supplies. I’m sure that all of you can manage that.” He looked around the room, as if daring someone to stand up and say that they couldn’t acquire the appropriate materials. When no one did, he nodded, as if in approval of the silence. “Good. Rules are not to bother me unless absolutely necessary, keep everything relatively quiet, and don’t mess with other people’s work. Failure to comply with these fairly simple rules will get you kicked out.” He leaned back in his chair. “As this is the first class, feel free to do what you wish.” 

Paris sighed and frowned at Mr. Naile’s absolute disregard of what he was teaching. It was his job to help students learn and grow, but he simply was deciding to do nothing with the time left in the class. He could have at least done an icebreaker, try to get to know the students who would be in his class. Paris shook his head and looked back at Nikolus and Jan, biting his lip. He stood up and walked over to their table, sitting down in a seat across from them. 

“Hello!” He waved cheerfully, a grin on his face. He hoped that he wasn’t being too forward or bothersome. If he was, they’d probably just tell him to leave, right? At least they should. “I’m Paris.” He introduced, though he was sure that Nik already knew that. “I guess we’re going to be in art together.” He said as if it wasn’t extremely obvious. 

Nik raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, looks like it.” He said, looking Paris up and down. It was very clear that he didn’t want the ginger there and Paris was fully prepared to just forget being friendly and return to the seat he had chosen for himself. 

“Nik, be nice!” Jan playfully swatted Nikolus’ arm, shaking their head. They looked back to Paris with a kind and gentle smile. “I’m Jan Boothe. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Paris.” Paris knew that they weren’t just Jan Boothe from the moment they smiled. Yes, their name was Jan Boothe in this life, but they’d had different names in lives past, lives they had shared with Paris. Paris couldn’t stop the huge grin that was spreading across his face as he recognized Jan as one of his friends. That made them the second person Paris knew after Bibiana, it was so exciting! It took most of his willpower not to just reach forward and hug Jan tightly and squeal. 

“I’m excited to be having art with you!” Paris said honestly, barely managing to keep the extent of his excitement within him. “So, uh, you’re new, right?” Paris struggled to keep up a reason to continue talking to Jan, needing to befriend them and connect with them. It was always so difficult to not seem weird when recognizing someone he used to know. 

Jan smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I actually moved here recently.” They explained, one hand moving to fiddle with a bracelet they were wearing. Years of people-watching had taught Paris to recognize people’s behaviors and mannerisms and he could tell that there was much more to it than just what Jan was telling him, but he didn’t want to push. 

“Oh, really?” Paris tried to sound very interested, which he was, but his mind could never settle on just one thing at any given time. “Where are you from?”

“Florida.” Jan smiled. “I moved here over the summer.”

“Florida, that’s cool.” Paris nodded, realizing that they were quickly descending into small talk. “What’s it like there?” He knew what Florida was like, or at least, he knew what Florida used to be like in times past. He was mildly curious as to if it had changed a lot. 

“It’s very hot.” Jan laughed, a beautiful, charming sound. Paris laughed too, as he remembered Florida as being very hot the last life he’d lived there. “Where I’m from, there was a lot of nature, which was pleasant. I used to walk in the woods near my house a lot.”

Paris grinned to himself, the more Jan spoke, the more proof it was that they were his old friend. In every life, they had always loved nature and animals, usually being able to talk about it for hours at a time. “Nature is the best.” Paris said, barely even noticing how lame that sounded. “So, you moved over the summer, but you already know Nik?” He asked, tilting his head. 

Jan’s face went pink, the color spreading down their neck and to the tips of their ears. “Yeah, Nik and I met online.” They admitted, fiddling with their hair and twisting it around a finger. “We were both a part of this art blog and we kind of just clicked.” 

Paris frowned internally, not letting his confusion show on his bright face. Jan had clicked with Nik, but he was fairly certain that Nik wasn’t one of the reincarnations of any of his friends. They weren’t supposed to “click” with anyone outside of the group. Yes, it happened, fairly frequently, actually, but it was never a good idea. Paris himself had become friends with or fallen in love with people outside of the group, but it never went well. The next time they were reincarnated with the ability to remember, they’d just remember the people that they’d never see again. Paris had experienced this firsthand and it was never pleasant, it was heartbreaking and painful and destructive. He tried to snap himself out of it, not worrying about that for the time being. They were all still in high school, so he couldn’t already be planning ahead to the next life. 

“You good, man?” Nikolus asked, pulling Paris back to reality, blinking repeatedly. 

“Hm? Oh, yes! Sorry, I guess I just zoned out a bit. I do that from time to time.” Paris laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

Jan shook their head. “No, don’t worry. It’s alright.” They assured with a kind smile. “What’s your next class?” They asked, looking over at his schedule curiously. 

“Oh!” Paris looked at his schedule. “Uh, it’s biology.” He informed, looking back up. 

“Darn.” Jan sighed. “Oh well, maybe we’ll have other classes together?”

Paris nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.” He smiled politely just as the bell rang. “Oh, where did the time go?” He looked around in surprise, honestly not realizing how much time had passed. 

Jan laughed as they stood up and gathered their things. “I know. Time really does seem to fly by, doesn’t it?” They mused as Nikolus put an arm around their shoulders and walked out with them. 

Paris watched them leave, smiling to himself. Time really was a mysterious thing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback! Feedback is a writer's best friend!


	4. Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels short, sorry. I hope you enjoy!

Paris walked into the biology classroom, thankfully not having much trouble finding it. He looked around the room, at the organized tables and the color-coordinated decorations, everything having neat labels pasted on them. It was quaint, cute, perfect for a little kid’s classroom. Of course, the students attending weren’t exactly very young children, but teenagers who would likely find the cutesy way the room was decorated to be patronizing. Nevertheless, Paris was rather fond of it, finding it to be endearing and fun. It made him smile as he looked around, noticing that there were name tags on the desk, assigning seats. Paris walked around the room, finding his name plastered on a desk beside someone named Chinar. He set his bag under the tabletop and sat down, slightly disappointed at the fact that his desk was located in the middle instead of in the front. He looked up at someone sat in the desk beside him, looking at the name tag and sighing deeply. They immediately got up and went to the front of the room, speaking to the teacher quietly. 

Paris watched them curiously, wondering what they could be talking about. He supposed that it was really none of his business, but he couldn’t help his curious nature. He smiled at his desk partner once they returned. “Hello.” He greeted with a wave and a smile. “I’m Paris. You must be Chinar.” He tried to sound out the name the best he could, not knowing how to pronounce it immediately. 

The person stiffened slightly and shook their head. “It’s Adilah.” They said quietly, peeling off the name tag. 

“Oh!” Paris flushed, ridiculing himself internally. “Adilah. Okay.” He nodded quickly, trying to correct himself. “Uh, I use he/him.” He said, not wanting to run the risk of saying the wrong thing. It was only polite to introduce himself properly. 

“She/her.” Adilah smiled a tiny bit, looking relieved. “Thank you.” She sat in her desk and fiddled with her hijab, adjusting it.  

Paris smiled brightly and nodded, glad that he had managed to correct his mistake. “It’s no trouble at all.” He said quickly, doing his best to be friendly. He realized that he did recognize Adilah, though they had never been in the same class together. He’d seen her around the school on occasion and might have acknowledged her once or twice, but they had never actually spoken in Paris’ memory. “I guess we’re going to be desk partners.” He continued, trying to keep the conversation alive. 

Adilah smiled politely and nodded. “I suppose so.” She said quietly, looking down at her desk and pulling out some materials for the class. 

Paris nodded, getting the hint that Adilah wasn’t really one to talk. She didn’t seem unfriendly at all, just soft spoken. He could respect that. He smiled warmly and looked up as the biology teacher, Mrs. Mell, introduced herself to the class. Mrs. Mell had a very hyperactive energy to her, the type that showed that she really wanted to make learning fun for her students. She was clearly interested in what she taught and wanted to share that with everyone else. Paris already liked her and her fun energy, but he could tell that most of the class did not share his enthusiasm. Mrs. Mell handed out syllabuses with a list of rules, procedures, and supplies that would be needed. She assured everyone that supplies would be made available for those who couldn’t acquire them on their own. She went over the rules and procedures of the class and showed everyone where everything in the room was located, clearly proud of her neat labels. Paris barely noticed the time flying by until the bell rang for lunch. 

Paris jumped and gathered his things, throwing his backpack over his shoulder as he made his way to the cafeteria. He pushed the doors open and scanned the lunchroom, knowing that he must choose his seat very carefully. Once one chose a spot on the first day of school, it was pretty much agreed that they would be sitting there every day afterwards. It was a very important decision that could dictate one’s social circles and Paris wanted to be able to meet as many people as he could. He spotted Bibiana already at a table, sitting with Nik and Jan. Paris grinned to himself, knowing that there were very few ways this could have turned out better for him. He quickly walked over and took a seat next to Bibiana.

“Hey, fire brain.” She grinned up at him. 

Paris rolled his eyes at the new insult, but laughed. “It’s good to see you, biology textbook.” He told her, saying the first thing that popped into his head. 

“Am I missing something?” Nik asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly not understanding the pair’s strange insult game. 

Bibiana shook her head. “It’s just a thing we do. Don’t worry about it.” She waved him off. “So, parrot, have you met Nik and Jan?” 

Paris nodded. “Yeah, they’re in my art class.” He told her with an excited grin. “I see that you’ve met them.” 

Bibiana nodded. “Well, I’ve known Nik.” She shrugged. “Jan is in my history class.” She played with her curls, twisting them around her finger. “They’re a total nerd, just like you.”

Jan laughed and shrugged. “She isn’t wrong.” They admitted with a smile. “I have been known to be quite nerdy.” 

Paris grinned. “Her calling you nerdy compared to me is quite the accomplishment.” He told them. “She’s been pointing my nerdiness out since childhood.”

“Well then, I feel honoured.” Jan said, pretending to tear up dramatically. “I would like to thank the academy.” 

Paris laughed at Jan’s overdramatic performance, grinning. “I’m glad to know a fellow nerd.” He said cheerfully. “We must stick together, after all.” 

“Oh, I agree completely.” Jan said with a nod. “We’re stronger together, after all. Eventually, we can build our army and take over the world!” They started laughing maniacally. Paris was already a huge fan of their humor and could notice the similarities between them and their past lives. 

Nik put a hand on Jan’s arm, shaking his head. “Babe, chill.” He said gently, but the smile on his face showed nothing but fondness. “No taking over the world today.” His tone was chiding, but playful, as if this was something already discussed between the two. “Not on a weekday. You have homework.”

Jan slunk into their seat and pouted, crossing their arms. “You’re no fun.” They whined, sticking their tongue out at the Romani boy, who just laughed at his partner. 

“You love me.” He teased them. 

“Lucky for you.” They shot back. 

“Very lucky for me.” He confirmed, kissing them gently and pulling them close. 

Paris felt queasy as he watched them and had to look away. Jan clearly cared about this boy, which would’ve been a good thing if it were anyone else, but it wasn’t. Jan would lose Nik, it was inevitable. Relationships outside of the group never lasted, it was impossible for them to. After this life, Nik would be gone forever, but Jan would eventually remember him. It was tragic and horrible, but it was their life, well, lives. It was the price they paid for this semi-immortality, though it wasn’t the only price. Far from it. 

Bibiana laughed. “Aw, is Paris jealous?” She asked in a baby voice, messing with his hair. 

“What? Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” He stared at the short girl, tilting his head. He had no reason to be jealous. What would he be jealous of?

“‘Cause Jan and Nik have a better relationship than you’ve ever had.” She smirked up at him, eyes twinkling playfully. 

“I’ve never been in a romantic relationship.” Paris pointed out, he hadn’t in this life, anyway. “Any relationship is better than any I’ve had by default.” 

Bibiana sighed and threw her hands into the air. “You are impossible to make fun of!” She complained, plopping her head on the table. “Why are you so proud of your singleness?”

Paris just shrugged. “Maybe because romantic relationships aren’t the only thing that’s important in life.” 

Bibiana rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She huffed, her breath blowing a brown curl from her face, only for it to fall right back. 

“Maybe you’re aromantic.” Jan suggested, now sitting on Nik’s lap. “There’s nothing wrong with that. People can be perfectly happy without romance.” 

Paris shrugged. “Maybe I am.” He agreed, running a hand through his hair, attempting to fix the mess Bibiana had made. “Or maybe I’m just not ready yet.” 

Jan nodded. “That’s valid.” They smiled, patting the top of his hand. “You do whatever makes you happy.” 

“I was planning on it.” Paris said with a teasing grin. He had no reason do things that didn’t make him happy, so he had every intention of being happy. 

Jan smiled brightly. “Good.” They clasped their hands with Paris’ with a grin. “Happiness is very often a positive thing.” 

Paris laughed. “Yeah, I’d say so.” He agreed. He looked up as the bell rang and gathered his things. “It was fun having lunch with the two of you!” He said with a wave. 

“Oh, yes. The two of them.” Bibiana said dramatically. “What am I, a forgotten puddle?” 

Jan nodded. “And you as well! I can tell that we’re going to be good friends!” They beamed. Their smile was so contagious that Paris found himself mimicking it. 

Bibiana elbowed him harshly, causing him to cry out. “Ow!” He rubbed his side. “What was that for?”

“Stop crushing on them. They’re taken.” She crossed her arms. 

“I’m not crushing on Jan!” Paris insisted. “I’m just happy to have a new friend.”

“Yeah, sure.” Bibiana rolled her eyes and adjusted her backpack. “Keep telling yourself that, woodpecker!” She waved to him as she bounded off towards her next class. Paris shook his head at her, chuckling to himself. He was so happy to have friends returning to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me feedback! Share what you think, what you want to see, and anything else!


	5. Passing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay. I finally got around to editing this chapter. It's still not perfect, but it's far better than the original draft.

Paris made his way to his math class, smiling brightly to himself. It had been such a good day so far. He was unable to get Jan off his mind. They were just so sweet and kind and so much like the friend he had known before, but still different, as always. He decided that he liked their freckles in this life, their freckles and their smile. He liked seeing them happy and they seemed to enjoy being happy, but he figured that one who didn’t enjoy being happy wasn’t truly happy. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Nikolus. Sure, the guy was nice enough, if a bit of a troublemaker and slacker in class, and he seemed to make Jan happy, but Paris really didn’t want Jan to get hurt. He suddenly realized why Bibiana might have assumed that he had a crush on Jan. 

The ginger was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the figure approaching him until his body slammed directly into Adilah, sending her books flying to the floor. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” He said quickly, bending down to pick up the books in a hurry, feeling incredibly foolish. He supposed that was just what he deserved for not paying attention to where he was walking. He was so clumsy and unfocused, it was only a matter of time before he caused a disaster. 

Adilah shook her head. “No, it’s okay.” She mumbled, though her tone held a distinct edge of disdain. She quickly set about gathering the books that Paris hadn’t already collected. 

“No, it’s my fault.” Paris insisted, handing her the books he had grabbed. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was just thinking too much.” He offered the girl a gentle smile, not wanting her to be upset with him. He hated when people were upset with him. 

Adilah looked him over and slowly accepted the books. “It’s alright.” She said slowly. “I forgive you.” She said simply, looking slightly relieved that he apologized. “Thank you.” She stood back up, holding her books close to her. 

Paris shook his head. “It was only polite.” He insisted, holding the door open for the taller girl. “Hey, uh, do you maybe want to sit together?” He offered, wanting to make amends. He’d already embarrassed himself several times when it came to Adilah and he’d rather that she didn’t think he was an insensitive moran who zoned out all the time. 

Adilah considered for a moment before slowly nodding. “Yeah, sure.” She smiled. “I don’t mind.”

Paris beamed, excited about being able to make things up to her. “Great!” He chose a seat at the front of the room, setting his things down and smiling at Adilah as she took the seat next to him. He noticed Aiki walk into the room and take a seat in the very back of the room, away from everyone else. He tried not to let his mind linger on the girl for too long, just smiling at Adilah in a possibly creepy manner as she pulled out her supplies. He quickly made an attempt to stop staring at her.

“So, Adilah,” He began slowly, wanting to at least be friendly and conversational. “How has your day been?”

“Good.” She responded offhandedly, not really seeming to be paying much attention to him. “Yourself?”

“Very good.” Paris smiled awkwardly before looking down at his desk as the conversation died. He drummed his fingers against the desk rhythmically until class actually started, the teacher not hesitating before handing out workbooks and teaching material. Paris did his best to follow along, with minimal success. He took mostly nonsensical notes and doodled in the pages of his new workbook until class ended. It was all mostly review anyway, so he should be fine even if he didn’t pay complete attention. Hopefully he would be fine even though he didn’t pay much attention at all. He jumped when the bell rang, having completely zoned out, as he tended to do. He quickly gathered his things and waved to Adilah, who waved back kindly. He grinned to himself as he made his way to his English classroom, which he had no trouble finding, considering it was the same as his homeroom. 

Paris walked into the room, taking the same seat he did in homeroom, at the very front of the class. He looked up as Jan skipped into the class and he quickly waved them over until they spotted him, taking the seat beside him. 

“Hi!” They said excitedly, waving enthusiastically. 

“Heya.” Paris responded with a grin. “How have your classes been?” He asked, eager to know what they thought of the school so far. 

“Really great!” Jan said, taking out their supplies with a flourish, having very cute and artsy notebooks. “Most of the teachers are very accepting and I really appreciate that. It’s worlds better than my old school.” They tucked a long strand of hair behind their ear. “What about you?”

“I like my classes so far.” Paris shrugged. “But I usually like my classes.” He admitted with a grin, being the nerd that he was. 

Jan laughed. “That’s a good thing.” They said. “If you don’t enjoy learning, you won’t get very far in the world.”

“There’s truth in that.” Paris grinned, closing his mouth and turning his attention to the front as Mr. Valear cleared his throat and gave a brief introduction of the class. 

“Alright, now I could take roll, but I’m sure you’ve done that in most of your other classes.” Mr. Valear said with a chuckle. “So, instead, we are going to go around the room and you can tell me your name, what you go by, and pronouns.” Paris couldn’t help but notice how Jan perked up at that. “I am John Valear, you may call me Mr. Valear.” He introduced himself with a kind smile. “I use he/him pronouns. Who would like to go next?” Paris was nearly hit in the face by Jan’s hand shooting into the air. Mr. Valear pointed to them. “Yes?”

“I’m Jan Boothe.” Jan introduced proudly. “Pronouns change, but they/them is always fine.” They said happily. Mr. Valear nodded and looked at Paris, who was seated next to them. 

“Oh! Paris Soares.” Paris waved, his face slightly pink. This was a group of people he’d be spending the rest of the year with, why was he blushing? “Any pronouns work.” He shrugged, not really caring that much about gender or pronouns. He’d lived through so many lives and had experienced so many different genders that it was nearly meaningless to him. Gender was mostly a societal based construct anyway. He watched as other students went around and introduced themselves. Mr. Valear continued the rest of the period with different icebreaker activities to get to know his students and the class was over before Paris realized. 

The bell rang and Paris gathered his things, only to be tapped on the shoulder by Jan. “Hey, can I get your number?” They asked. “Not to be creepy or anything, I just would like to be able to stay in contact with a new friend.”

Paris beamed at that, excited at the prospect of staying in touch with his friend. “Yeah! Yeah, of course.” He said quickly, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote his number down before handing it to Jan. “There you go.” 

“Thank you!” Jan smiled and kissed his cheek. “I shall see you tomorrow.” They waved before skipping out, looking as happy as ever.

Paris grinned and walked out of the school, waiting near the front for Bibiana, so he could walk with her. He waved to her as she walked out. “How was your day, moldy milk?” He asked as she took his arm. 

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Boring. I really don’t understand how you can find any enjoyment in school.” She sighed dramatically as they walked. “It’s the worst.”

“It is not!” Paris insisted defensively, feeling the need to protect education from this slander. “How else do you expect to learn anything?” 

Bibiana shrugged. “Maybe the old fashioned way: experience.” 

Paris sighed deeply and shook his head, wishing that he could get it through to Bibiana that school was important. “If you’re only taught by experience, then you won’t be prepared for the first time you come across something. You could also just make the same mistakes over and over again.” 

“I could, but I wouldn’t.” She argued, crossing her arms defensively. “I’m smarter than that.” 

Paris opened his mouth to argue, but paused when he saw a small group of people on the side of the road. He tilted his head as they approached them. “What’s going on there?” He pointed them out to Bibiana. 

“I don’t know.” Bibiana hummed. “Let’s check it out.” She pulled him towards the group, her grip surprisingly strong. “Hey! Excuse me!” She called to the group, causing Paris’ face to turn bright pink in embarrassment at her behavior. This girl had no shame. 

One of the people looked over, long hair tied behind them in a ponytail. Their bright, blue eyes lit up at the sight of two people walking over to them. “Yes, hello.” They greeted with an eager determination in their eyes. 

“What’s all this about?” Bibiana asked, gesturing to the group of people.

“We’re asking people to sign a petition.” The blond explained, straightening their back. “We’re trying to enforce stricter gun control laws.” They explained, offering her a clipboard. “Would you mind signing?” 

Bibiana seemed to think it over, looking the blond up and down. “Well, that depends.” She said eventually, a sly smirk on her face. “What’s your name?”

The blond looked surprised. “Julian.” He said eventually. “Julian Hugo. Why do you ask?”

Bibiana smirked. “No reason.” She took the clipboard from him and signed it before handing it back. 

Julian looked overjoyed. “Thank you so much.” He smiled at her before glancing at Paris. “Would you like to sign as well?”

Paris shrugged. “Sure, why not?” He took the clipboard and noticed that Bibiana had written her number down beside her name. He sighed deeply and signed his name, writing a tiny apology on behalf of his friend. He smiled politely at Julian as he handed it back. “I think it’s really cool, what you’re doing.”

Julian blushed, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “Thank you. If we don’t try to make a change, no one will, so it’s really up to us.” 

Paris nodded. “Yeah, I totally agree.” He grinned. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” He turned to walk away. 

“Wait!” Paris turned back around as Julian called to him. “We could use more people like you.” He said, looking anxious as he spoke He was clearly not the best at speaking to people. “Here.” He handed him a card. “That’s my number. You can contact me if you ever wanted to learn more about our organization.” He said, words coming out rushed and nervous. “Or if you wanted to join.”

Paris glanced at the card and nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” He grinned. “I’ll be sure to look into it.” He promised before heading towards his house with Bibiana, who was pouting. 

“I can’t believe you got his number and I didn’t.” She whined.

Paris shrugged. “I don’t know, you were coming off a little strong.” He pointed out as they walked up to her porch. 

“You think?” Bibiana considered, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “Oh, whatever. I’ll catch you tomorrow, table leg.” 

Paris laughed and waved. “See you tomorrow, smelly sock.” He teased before turning to head to his own house, thinking about the events of the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave feedback if you would!


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